


Just a mage

by MizuMegami



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, On Hiatus
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-04
Updated: 2015-07-23
Packaged: 2018-04-07 14:45:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4267275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MizuMegami/pseuds/MizuMegami
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He had already been risking his life by attending the conclave, now they had decided that he was responsible for its apparent destruction."</p><p>The Inquisitor may have told the conclave & his captors that he was a Trevelyan noble, but hiding the truth was harder than he thought when his life was on the line. Once his lie has been found out life gets a little more complicated for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own anything other than the main character.  
> As in everything constructive criticism is welcome, but flames are meant cooking food, not people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own anything other than the main character.  
> As in everything constructive criticism is welcome, but flames are meant cooking food, not people.

At first everything was black. Slowly this sort of green filter grew over everything before the embers and bits of flying burning things came into reality. He got up and started walking, but how did he even end up on the ground? Everything was so confusing and all he could do was keep walking towards the shining golden woman. Was it a woman?

She reached out to him, but he hesitated. He didn’t trust this woman. There was something wrong about her. No! She wasn’t who she was supposed to be. He took a step back before he heard the faintest of sounds. Why had there been no sounds until now?

It sounded like the barest of scrapes along the floor. He looked around, but all that he could see was green and burning things and black and the wrong-woman. It came again. This time louder and closer and like there were hundreds or thousands of barley there scrapes along the ground. Then he finally saw something in the mist. The faintest glimmer of light shined back at him in moving clusters of eight and another sound joined the scraping. This shrill chittering chirp. It grew louder and the hairs on his body began to stand. A long thin black spindle of a leg emerged from the mist and another and he turned away.

He ran to the woman who was wrong. Almost there, he stumbled. He looked back. What were those things? He had to get away. They were far worse than a woman who was not a woman.

She reached for him. She never uttered a word, never made a noise, but she told him she would protect him. She would keep him safe if only he would let her. If only he would take her hand.

The scrapes were growing closer. The chittering grew louder. He took her hand and the world went black again. The noises were gone and he felt nothing.

~*O*~

He shifted, or thought he shifted, maybe someone was moving him.

~*O*~

There was nothing. No memories, no sensations, nothing.

No, that wasn’t right. He felt something.

His legs were numb, but surly that was real floor under them. There was a weight on his wrists. Cold and solid. Someone had bound his hands in metal. His body was stiff, his eyes were shut, but a piercing green bled through him with the strangest sensation of pain and power and old nothingness.

In an instant it faded and he finally felt the ache that gripped his body leave him and he was able to open his eyes. It was dark but a torch had been light nearby that gave the damp air some light and heat. There was a sharp pain in his left hand, like someone had stabbed it with a fork. He remembered that happening once, but that was a long time ago.

When he looked at his hand it looked fine, if a little pruned from dehydration, but there was something wrong with it. He looked closer and saw a faint line of scar tissue with specks of green shining through.

It seemed as though this new mark didn’t like to be scrutinized for when he focused on it the scar tissue snapped open and the fork turned into a twisting knife of pain while that strange sensation returned.

His nerves screamed, but every instinct he had was telling him to keep silent. The scar snapped shut once more and he couldn’t help be utter a sharp long gasp from his painfully dry throat.

This had to have been a signal to his captors. Metal scraped against hollow metal on all sides as he was finally able to close his mouth. A door slammed open in front of him soon after and a chilled breeze of fresh air cleared the rotting smell of this prison from his nostrils.

“Stand down. He can’t hurt anyone.” A gruff accented female voice said in the trade language. Why were they speaking in the trade language and why was the air so cold?

Suddenly everything came rushing back to him like a tidal wave against the beach. He was a mage. One of many who attended the conclave that was held to settle the conflict between the mages and the templars. He had made the long journey south for the conclave. He'd been sent there under the assumed identity of a Free Marches noble from Ostwick. He couldn’t help but wonder once again what had happened to the young Trevelyan.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by a gauntlet tearing into his hair and forcing his head up towards the torch light.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you now.” That gruff voice spoke next to his ear. The gauntlet shoved his head away, taking some souvenirs with it. “The Conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead” finally she had circled around into the torch light. “Except for you” the gruff voiced woman, now obviously a warrior, came to rest next to a stern faced woman he had not heard or seen until just then.

Bound, stiff, and surrounded by dangerous unknowns there was nothing he could say that would get him out of this situation. He had already been risking his life by attending the conclave, now they had decided that he was responsible for its apparent destruction. He could do nothing but glare silently at the gruff woman while keeping an eye on the stern faced silent one.

His silence only seemed to further anger his interrogator. She stormed back to him, tightly gripped his newly marked hand, and shoved it in his face. “Explain this!” she snarled at him. He glared at her until she finally huffed in annoyance and threw his hand back in his lap.

Silence would get him nowhere it seemed and he certainly wasn’t going to beg for his life. He let the tense silence hang in the air a moment longer before speaking to the silent shadow woman “I can’t.”

“What do you mean you can’t?” his interrogator growled at him her annoyance growing into anger once more.

“I don’t know what that is or how it got there. It certainly wasn’t there the last time my hand saw torch light.” He said adopting a vulgar, if scratchy, tone.

“You're lying” the angry warrior all but yelled as she ripped him off the floor by his armor. He braced himself, but instead of the expected blow the second woman had cleared her own throat and the warrior dropped him like so much filth.

“We need him, Cassandra.” The shadow woman said in a calming tone before turning back to the prisoner. Cassandra backed off while her companion just stared at him expectantly.  
He glared up at Cassandra a moment longer before looking at his new interrogator. “Whatever it is you think I did, you’re wrong.”

Not missing a beat and still in her calming tone the second woman asked “Do you remember what happened? How this began?” her accent was obviously from Orlais, though you’d never know it from her light chainmail armor and discreet hood.

He glared back at Cassandra as she stepped forward again and said nothing until she came to a stop with her hands behind her back. “I remember green, and running. These things were chasing me, and there was a golden…” he paused debating if he should try to explain his sense of wrongness about the glowing not-woman before deciding that that was too much information “woman.” He finally croaked out.

This grabbed the attention of both of his interrogators. “A woman?” the Orlesian asked, perhaps with a little more enthusiasm than she meant to reveal, judging by her immediate grimace.

Finally there seemed a way out of this prison with his head and neck unmarked. “She reached out to me, but…” his voice finally gave out and he was forced to completely stop talking. It was probably for the best. How could he possibly explain that the woman was no woman and made no noise, yet he could clearly remember her speaking to him?

Seeing that they would get nothing further from him and having calmed down Cassandra pulled her companion back towards the door. “Go to the Forward Camp, Leliana. I will take him to The Rift. Maybe that will get him to talk.”

Leliana nodded her agreement before turning back to the prisoner. “If you did not cause the devastation at the conclave than who are you and why were you there?”

“I am Lord Elim, fourth son of House Trevelyan of Ostwick. I was sent to the conclave to represent my family and their interests.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off: thank you for reading this! I haven't written anything other than research/general college papers in a long time so I hope it wasn't too bad.  
> This kinda came to me as I started my 3rd playthrough as a Female Lavellen Mage & I wanted to play as a distrustful elf who can't stand the Chantry, worships the elven gods, has little time for humans in general, & who can't help but somehow fall for Cullen. Not too suprisingly however the auto-responses didn't entirely fit in with my head cannon so I started writing my own intro/story.  
> Somehow she turned into a he & while Cullen is amazing I love Dorian too much not to romance him when I play as a guy (my first playthrough was a male Qunari >.>).  
> Anyway I've only just started to write this thing so besides knowing some of the history of the main character & that he is going to woo Dorian I don't really know how the story is going to go. Already I think I may have made Cassandra meaner then intended.  
> As in everything constructive criticism is welcome, but flames are meant cooking things not people.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elim nearly becomes a walking icicle while Cassandra finally starts to cool down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own anything other than the main character.  
> As in everything constructive criticism is welcome, but flames are meant cooking food, not people.

“I am Lord Elim, fourth son of House Trevelyan of Ostwick. I was sent to the conclave to represent my family and their interests.”

Leliana looked at him for a moment longer before nodding her head and leaving.

Cassandra walked back to him only to stand over him until he looked up. She locked eyes with him before speaking “Bring me a length of rope. The lord and I will be going to see what it is he didn’t do.” The guard closest to the door snapped to attention before hurrying to do as he was bidden.

Cassandra slowly squatted down until she was face to face with her prisoner. “I still do not trust that you had nothing to do with what happened at the conclave,” she said as the guard returned with his prize “but I do trust that you will not kill me.” She gave a slight node to the guards around the room as she pulled a key, from what he could only assume was a hidden pocket, and unlocked his hands from the manacles.

Elim moved to rub his wrists only to have her snatch them up and loop the rope around them. “So are you going to tell me what did happen?” He asked her snidely.

She stood back up and yanked him to his feet with her. His numb legs protested the sudden movement and it seemed as though the thousand needles that had colored his face were now working their way up and down legs. He hissed a curse under his breath before she dragged him by his bindings through the hallway just outside of his area of the prison.

She glanced back at him “It will be easier to show you.” She said before tugging the rope to make him walk faster.

~*O*~

The numbness in his legs had finally subsided by time they emerged from the prison. By the time Cassandra had dragged him to what must have been the main doors he knew that what was behind them would be only a slight improvement from where he had just come.

A guard opened those immense wooden doors as they approached and Elim stopped, nearly wishing those doors had remained shut. The cold refreshing breeze from before had now turned into a looming, living, thing that tried to claw its way up his legs and into his clothes. The parts of him unlucky enough to not be covered felt like someone had just dunked them in a nearly frozen bath. Cassandra paid the cold and him both no mind as she yanked him out into a snow covered village.

The sudden change in light caused him to cover his eyes and look at the ground and village instead.

His eyes adjusted and it seemed that the snow that covered the village also blanketed the sky. It was then that he noticed that there was no warm sun to be seen and yet there was a great light shining all the same.

“We call it The Breach. It’s a massive rift into The Fade and the world of Demons that grows larger with each passing hour.” Cassandra said having watched him take in his surroundings. “It is not the only such rift, just the largest. All were caused by the explosion at the conclave. The explosion you survived.”

Finally able to tear his eyes from the great green gash that had taken over the sky he saw Cassandra walking back toward him. “An explosion can do that?” he asked skeptically.

“This one did.” She said now sounding more tired than angry. “Unless we act, The Breach could grow until it swallows the world.”

It seemed as though The Breach knew she was talking about it for as soon as Cassandra finished it gave off a great pulse. He fell to his knees gasping as that strange sensation of pain, power, and old nothingness was joined by another sensation. The pulsing in his hand felt like something in the breach was trying to pull the scar and surrounding tissue into itself.

“Each time The Breach expands, your mark spreads and it is killing you.” She explained as she reached to grab his hand only for it to pulse and twinge with pain again until Elim was finally able to clutch to his chest. Cassandra drew her own hand back. “That mark may be the key to stopping The Breach, maybe all of the rifts, but there isn’t much time.”

The pain in his hand finally subsided. He looked up at her, his jaw still clenched tightly and hissed “You still think I’m guilty and I don’t really have a choice about any of this, do I?”

“No, you don’t.” she said pulling him up. “None of us has a choice.”

He stumbled for a moment before she continued leading him down a path into the village by the rope. 

As they approached people began to point and whisper. Some of the seemingly younger guards mumbled what were surly obscenities under his breath. Farther in past the first wave of people were those who simply chose to stand off to the side. Many of them just glared at him while others spat on the ground while they stared. Finally they passed the tavern and its occupants began shouting at him. More of the village emerged from indoors and it was as if all of the noises blended together to make a barrier of sound where nothing could be understood.

Elim, as far back from Cassandra as the rope would allow, bumped into a glaring guard that refused to move from him. Elim looked down at the guard’s feet instead of confronting him. It must have be providence that this guard was the one that had refused to move for he was also foolish enough to display his spare dagger that should have been in his boot rather than at his waist. Elim quickly pulled it free of its sheath and tucked it into his sleeve as Cassandra tugged on the rope.

She pulled until Elim was within arms reach “They have already decided your guilt. The people of Haven mourn the Most Holy, Divine Justinia, head of The Chantry.” She pushed him ahead of herself “It would be best if you stayed close to me, we don’t need a riot.” They continued along the path in silence after that.

~*O*~

Snow had started falling and swallowed the noise and anger of the village before Cassandra spoke again “Most Holy made the conclave. It was a chance at peace between the mages and the templars. She brought their leaders together and now they’re all dead.” Snow and silence fell a few moments more before she picked up where she left off “We lash out like the sky, but we must think beyond ourselves, as Most Holy did.” It sounded as if she was trying to convince herself of something rather than actually talking to her captive.

It was probably for the best that she wasn’t really talking to him because he was not listening to her. All that filled his head were thoughts of a warm fire, a hot meal, and finding the best opportunity to cut his bindings and flee into the snow covered woods.

That opportunity never came as the snow at his feet continued to grow and the first, of what would surely be many, check points came into view. Cassandra signaled the guards as they approached the doors. “We are headed into the valley. Open the gates.”

Once through, Cassandra pulled him to a stop by the back of his armor and he turned to face her. From her boot she pulled her dagger and released his wrists from their hemp bindings. “There will be a trial, I can promise you no more than that. Come it is not far.”

“Just where is it you’re taking me?” He asked as he was finally able to rub his writs and blow hot breath onto his cold hands.

“Your mark must be tested on something smaller than the breach.” She said as she lead him through another set of gates and up toward the greatest disaster since the fall of Kirkwall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For eight or so years I lived in an area that fluctuated from Humid Continental in the summer to Subarctic in the winter. Now I'm living in a decidedly Humid Subtropical area and writing about snow in the middle of summer, our high today was 102°F (~39°C), is really kind of making me miss those subarctic days ^_^''


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why didn't anyone tell Thedas that sky boogers were so deadly?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own anything other than the main character.  
> As in everything constructive criticism is welcome, but flames are meant cooking food, not people.

“Your mark must be tested on something smaller than the breach.” She said as she lead him through another set of gates and up toward the greatest disaster since the fall of Kirkwall.

Test this thing? It hurt like The Void when left to its own devices and Cassandra wanted to poke it until it cooperated? Elim watched as Cassandra began marching up the snowy path to a scarred sky. If he was going to be forced to march through the mountains she should have at least made sure he wouldn’t freeze to death before they reached their destination.

~*O*~

The world beyond the check point was so different from the angry village and silence of that snowy path. This path had been a road once, but was now covered in barricades, burning carts, corpses, and soldiers who refused or were too terrified to leave their posts. All the while The Breach spewed burning green destruction over everything.

There was nowhere to run to now. The path that was a road wound around the mountain landscape like a vine around a tree. Cassandra marched ahead of him and the soldiers blocked the way back. All he could do now was try to focus on following Cassandra instead of the cold and destruction that surrounded him on the ground or rained down from the sky. He touched the hidden dagger to reassure himself before quickening his pace.

Just as he caught up to Cassandra the breach and his mark both pulsed. He stumbled into her before falling to the ground, curled around his hand. So much closer to the breach he could almost swear the skin on his palm moving like the bones were being ripped out of it. The terrible sensation that followed every pulse made him nauseous while the sight of his bones pressing upward into his skin nearly caused him pass out. How was he going to make it to this valley Cassandra talked about if the breach kept trying to rip his hand apart?

The answer, it would seem, was simple: through the will of a determined holy warrior. Cassandra picked him up and steadied him until the pain passed enough that he could stand on his own.

“The pulses are coming faster now.” She said it so straightforwardly. Just a fact that she could do nothing about. “The larger The Breach grows the more rifts appear and with them the more demons step through.” She patted him on the arm when she was confident that he no longer needed her help and they began their march anew.

“So, how did I survive the destruction of the conclave anyway?” Elim asked finally getting tired of the silence.

“They say you walked out of a rift, then fell unconscious.” Cassandra paused before looking straight at him “They say a woman was with you in the rift. No one knows who she was.”

“Everything in the valley, including The Temple of Sacred Ashes, was laid to waste.” Cassandra said with a hint of anger returning to her voice. She paused long enough that Elim looked at her, wondering if she would continue. “I suppose you will see soon enough.” The next check point was peaking over the top of the path and Cassandra made to call out to the gate holders, only to find that there were none.

The gate’s doors that had once welcomed pilgrims and stood against intruders had been ripped from their stone archway. The guards who would have stood in front of them were instead were lying on the side of the path almost, completely covered in snow. Soldiers stood on the other side of the check point doing their best to guard against any threats while ignoring what they could do nothing about.

Elim and Cassandra slowed their march as they crossed the damaged second check point. Cassandra called out to the guards on the other end, but before they could respond a defining resonance filled the air before a flash of light blinded everyone in the area. The ground, so stable a moment ago, now lifted and heaved before flying apart all together. With it Cassandra and Elim were thrown to the frozen river below while screams rained down on them from above.

A ball of burning green fade had fallen onto the far end of the check point. Those who had not immediately died from the blast were crushed by the collapsing bridge that had made up the check point or were quickly burning from the fade fire.

~*O*~

The world didn’t make sense. One moment they were l marching towards guards standing at attention and the next Elim found himself sprawled on a frozen river half covered in debris. Slowly he wiggled his fingers and hands, needing to make sure that he could, before moving them under himself. A moment of panic tightened his throat as he tried to sit up. His legs wouldn’t move.

He looked down at them only to find them pinned by a broken wagon. Quickly he tried to move his toes and found that they responded as well. He breathed his thanks under his breath and tried to move out from under the wagon, but no matter how much he pulled his legs were stuck.

Another shining green ball of the fade shot out toward them, destroying a snow covered hill in its path, before crashing into the frozen river and splattering fade over the solid ice sheet. The new fade marked ice seemed to ooze then crystallize before spewing forth a living mound of rags, and skin, and death. One of the demons Cassandra had spoken of was now right in front of them.

Elim quickly looked around for his captor. Cassandra had landed safely away from flying debris and was already on her feet. She made to move toward him, but the demon was already advancing on her. She growled her frustration before readying her sword and shield. “Get up and stay behind me.” She said as she made her own charge toward the shade.

“Yeah, ‘cause it’s not as if I’m pinned to the ice or anything.” He spat as he continued to try to pull himself free.

He finally lifted the wagon enough to move one leg when another pool of fade oozed and began to crystallize near him. Frantically he looked to Cassandra, but she was too busy with her own demon to handle this one. “This is not my day. Void take it this is not my week.” He snarled before twisting at the waist and shoving at the wagon. “Move damn you!” he yelled as he began hitting it and gathered magic to him. This thing needed to move, he needed to move, if he didn’t move he never would again.

Looking back he saw the demon had fully materialized and was beginning to stand. Desperately, he threw what magic he had at the wagon. It cracked and splintered before flying off of him, back towards the ruined check point. Breathing heavily he scrambled to his feet and pulled the stolen dagger from his sleeve.

The demon was on him and with most of his reserved mana thrown into that blast he could only slash at the demon. One, two, three slashes into the demon before it slashed at him and drew blood. He’d fought off demons in the fade before, but in the physical world those wounds hurt a lot more than when he was asleep or using lyrium.

He stumbled and slipped on the ice fending off the demon until he fell into an open crate. He was done for. He was going to die at the hands of a pitiful shade, falsely accused of committing genocide, with his ass stuck in a crate. He blindly lashed out at the demon only to find that it was now headed for Cassandra. What, you get your ass stuck in a crate and suddenly demons lose interest in you? 

Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth Elim pulled himself from the crate and found that it still contained most of its straw packing and weapons requisition contents. There had to be a better weapon than a stolen dagger in such a large crate. He quickly threw the top layer of straw out of the crate and found that it was filled with daggers, swords, a bow and arrows, and even a staff. He looked longingly at the staff, but if he somehow managed to make it out of this nightmare alive he needed to maintain his cover as a young lord from Ostwick, assuming Cassandra hadn't seen that last display of magic. “Well I’ve got one dagger, might as well grab another.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this is late. This past week has been filled with visiting family and hanging out with a friend who is moving back up north in time for winter. I don't think I'll have chapter 4 up by this Saturday, but I'll do my best  ୧( ˵ ° ~ ° ˵ )୨


End file.
